Semua Bab Owned By The Mafia Lord: Bab 441 - Bab 450

MARCOThe car ride back from the Delphini estate was quiet. I leaned against the seat, eyes on the road ahead, while Sofia shifted beside me, restless. The night had been long, the kind of night where every word spoken was measured, where every look carried weight. I should have felt the pull of victory, but my mind was already elsewhere.“You know,” she said, breaking the silence, “we looked good in there. People couldn’t stop watching us. We carried that room.”I didn’t move my eyes from the window. “It went well. That’s all that matters.”Her laugh was soft, forced. “That’s all? Marco, come on. You can admit it. We made an impression. You and me, together, we were solid.”I let out a slow breath. “The pitch was yesterday. Tonight was presence. We did what was needed.”She leaned in a little, voice lower, almost playful. “You really don’t like saying it out loud, do you? That we make a good pair.”Finally, I turned to her. My tone stayed even. “You did your work. Thank you for that.

SOFIAThe jet hummed steady, a low sound that filled the cabin, but between us, silence ruled. I sat with my back straight, legs crossed, every inch of me put together. The dress, the heels, the cut of the jacket—nothing was random. Every detail was chosen to remind him of who I was. What I was. What I had been to him once.But Marco didn’t look at me. Not once. His head stayed bent over his papers, phone in one hand, pen in the other. He scribbled notes, flipped pages, shifted through numbers as if I didn’t exist.The coldness of it pressed into my chest, sharper than I wanted to admit.I tilted my chin slightly, studying him. His jaw was tight, his focus exact, his movements clean. He looked like a man carved from steel. But I knew better. I had felt the heat in him the night before, felt his hands on my waist, his mouth answering mine before he pulled away. He wanted me. He had wanted me. That kind of desire didn’t disappear just because he forced it back.The silence stretched. I

SARAHI woke from my nap with a kind of excitement I hadn’t felt in a long time. It almost reminded me of being younger, when the thought of going out with someone special made my stomach twist. I sat up slowly, brushing the sleep off my face, and my eyes drifted toward the box that held the dress Marco had brought back from his trip.I opened it carefully, almost nervous. The dress was elegant, nothing flashy, but it had a cut and a color that felt made for me. I held it against myself, smiling without meaning to. When I slipped it on and stood before the mirror, I almost didn’t believe it was me. The fabric hugged me perfectly, soft against my skin. I adjusted the straps and smoothed it down, staring at the way it fit like it had been waiting for me.The jewelry box sat on the dresser, still where Marco had placed it. I opened it and picked up the necklace first, fastening it around my neck. It shimmered under the light, delicate but strong. I added the earrings, then the bracelet,

SARAHThe band was still playing when I leaned back in my chair. The noise wasn’t as loud as before, more of a background hum while the night stretched on. Marco sat across from me, his glass half full, his face a little flushed from the wine. My cheeks felt hot too, and the room carried that buzz you only get when you’ve had just enough to loosen your guard. Not drunk, just light.My hand rested on the table, close enough to his that our fingers brushed. It was quick, accidental, but it sent a jolt through me. He smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and lifted his glass.“One more bottle,” he said, motioning to the waiter.I groaned. “Marco, no. We’ve had enough.”He raised his brows, that stubborn expression settling on his face. “Tonight’s different. You don’t say no to me tonight.”“You’ll regret that in the morning,” I shot back, shaking my head.“I don’t get hangovers.”“Everyone gets hangovers.”“Not me.” His lips curved, smug. “Wine’s in my blood.”I laughed under

GUIDOThe room was dark, quiet, heavy with smoke. I sat at the head of the long table, a cigar burning low between my fingers. The ashtray in front of me was already full. I didn’t move much, only watched the door. I had been waiting, and they were late. My men always knew what that meant.The door creaked open. Nino walked in first, shoulders tense, his shirt sticking to him with sweat. His eyes darted around the room like a rat looking for a hole. Rocco followed, calm but stiff, his jaw tight. Olivia came last, her face collected, though I could see the way her eyes flicked toward me, gauging the mood.They stopped near the end of the table. None of them dared sit.I didn’t say a word. I leaned back, drawing slow from my cigar, and let the silence stretch. I could feel Nino fidgeting, his nerves making the air worse. That was the point. I let it choke him.Finally, he cleared his throat. “Boss… we went in, like you said. We had him in sight. Marco was there, the woman too.” His voic